The Nicest Word There Is
by Droupy48
Summary: A story about the kids who felt safe in the library.


**Author's Note:** Look, I finally wrote something. Oh, and the characters and stuff belong to J.K. Rowling.

"_A story about the kids who felt safe in the library."_

_**Minerva McGonagall**_

Minerva McGonagall needed a place to disappear.

From the moment she set foot in Hogwarts, Minnie was absolutely determined to excel. Alright, maybe it wasn't the moment she arrived and more the moment, when she's huddled with her fellow first years waiting to be sorted, that some silly little boy – puffed with a pride learned from his parents, and his grandparents, and his bloodline – remarks that he wishes they wouldn't let _her sort_ in. He has the audacity to imply that she does not deserve to be here, simply because her dad wasn't here before her. Simply because he recognizes that she is not a member of one of the _respectable_ families that come around to his house for lunch and for parties. He implies that she is less than him. And _that_ would be the moment she decides to show him exactly who is the best here. Except acknowledging this moment only gives that silly little boy more space inside her head – inside her story – and so, when people ask, yes, she's just always had the desire to succeed.

And succeeding is wonderful, obviously. Everyone knows Minnie McGonagall and everyone knows that she is the best in her year. She's a joy to have in all her classes and absolutely soars in transfiguration. No missing assignments. Perfect attendance. It's not that she never gets sick or never gets bored. It's just that she has something much more important to be dealing with. And she outright refuses to fall short of her goals.

And so no one's really surprised when she gets her O.W.L's and her N.E.W.T's and every single subject has an 'Outstanding' next to it. No one's really surprised when she receives a Prefect's badge, followed by a Head Girl badge. In fact, they'd probably be surprised if those things didn't happen to her.

But what people seem to recognize, but not exactly understand, is that all those things took a lot of _work_. Minnie worked hard for every single one of those 'Outstanding's; she _earned_ them. She was not, contrary to popular belief, simply born with a deep and intense knowledge of all things magical. But that's what people seem to believe of her – often in their own attempt to explain their own, less impressive class rank. Seeming effortless takes a lot of effort, which is something you can't really understand unless you do it. And that's what made Minnie realize that, while those people may praise her, they were not like her. They did not have the desire nor the drive that she possessed. They were not willing to give up anything at all – whatever it took – to be the best. And thus, at times, their affections became a little too much to take on top of writing that charms essay and studying for that potions exam.

And when it became a little too much, she would strike out for the library. She would walk right past other students, who were gathered around tables studying. Right past (though not without a little wave) the librarian, who was directing a student away from the Restricted Section. And she would walk until she couldn't hear the whispers and the scratching of quills. Couldn't smell the fresh parchment and ink.

And she would pull out that book she'd been meaning to read for _ages_. Would leave herself in a cozy chair between dusty shelves, and sink into worlds that were not her own. Worlds in which she was anonymous. Worlds with characters that didn't know her – that didn't want anything from her. And those characters would take the lead and drag her along for the ride. And for the time being, someone else would do all the _work_, and Minnie would just _exist_.

_**Remus Lupin**_

Remus Lupin needed a place that let him escape.

While Remus has been ridiculously happy on several occasions throughout his life, the first he can recall is the day he found out he could go to Hogwarts. Growing up as a werewolf, Remus knew that the odds were against him. He knew he was dangerous. He knew he was a _monster_. And he knew what a majority of the magical community thought of people like him. And so it was very rarely that he would allow himself to even consider his chances of being able to study magic. And even more rarely would he allow himself to hope for it.

But then his eleventh birthday arrived. And his very own Hogwarts letter arrived. And Albus Dumbledore arrived, bringing with him plans for safety measures and encouraging Remus to become a student. And so yes, maybe after Dumbledore left, Remus did go up to his room and jump up and down and smile and laugh and dance around a bit. Because he was absolutely, _ridiculously_ _happy_ to be welcome at Hogwarts.

And when Remus arrived at Hogwarts, with tatty robes and used books, he could tell immediately that it was everything he had never let himself hope for. He learned about spells and charms and potions. He learned how to fly a broom and how to turn a match into a needle. And he made friends. Crazy, daring, incredible friends. And together they pulled pranks and found secret passageways and explored and joked around. And it was utterly _magical_.

Except once a month. Once a month on the full moon when the Wolf would claw its way out of his body and attempt to tear him apart. When he would wake up in the hospital wing with viscous marks etched into his skin, reminders of the monster that was _still inside him_. The monster that was _always_ inside him.

And his friends helped, of course. They were the best friends in the world, as far as Remus was concerned. And hanging out with them, watching them act stupid, and sometimes joining in on the stupidity himself – all those things helped. But sometimes he felt trapped. He felt the burden of his condition. He felt the heaviness of his studies – which he took very seriously _because_ of his condition (and because he maybe felt like he owed it to Dumbledore to do well). And the responsibility of being expected to control the madness that was SiriusandJames – because Peter just couldn't. Sometimes he needed space to breathe.

And when he needed space, he would slip off to the library. Away from the smell of Dungbombs and the talk of Quidditch practice. Away from the spontaneous dueling matches and escapades that seemed to land the Marauders in an above-average number of detentions. Away from the weight of 'unfair' and 'responsibility'.

He'd be surrounded by the serenity that was the library. And he would find his favorite little corner – the one near the floor-to-ceiling window that let him look down on the chaos that was Hogwarts and gave him the impression of being very far away from it all. And he would sink into worlds that accepted him with open arms. Worlds in which he was the hero. Worlds with characters that looked up to him – didn't judge him. And those characters would travel with him on journeys full of grand endeavors and brilliant triumphs. And for the time being, someone else would be the nightmare – the _monster_ – and Remus would save the day.

_**Hermione Granger**_

Hermione needed a place of familiarity.

Before she even set foot inside Hogwarts, Hermione knew more about her new school than any of the other first years. She'd read all about it of course. She'd always found books to be a great source of knowledge, so it seemed only natural to turn to them upon finding out about her magical abilities. There was so much she needed to learn, and a hidden new world – a real world – that she needed to explore.

When she found out she was a witch, everything suddenly made sense. She'd never really fit in with the other kids in her class. She didn't have different shades of nail polish scattered around her room, and they didn't have different books scattered around theirs. Well, more like they didn't have different books shelved neatly on bookshelves, organized by color or author or genre (depending on her mood). And they didn't arrange their pens in a neat little line or color code their folders. But that was alright.

Because she had books, and they were magical all on their own. They could lure you in and trap you in strange new places. They could pull you along and introduce you to people that you would never see for real, but would love just the same. They could pass messages along for authors who died long ago. They could provide adventures and hope and knowledge and _friends_.

So no, Hermione was not incredibly popular in her before-Hogwarts days. But surely, she thought, once she got to this magical new world, she would find people like her; people who accepted her. She would go on adventures and learn new things and she would _belong_.

But of course, Hogwarts was, first and foremost, a school. She would be going there to study magic, and that was not something she took lightly. That's why she asked her parents if they would pay for extra books, and that's why she spent hours upon hours reading them; to gain context and learn about all the things she'd missed while growing up as a Muggle. And the books did not disappoint. They gave her so much information there was no way she'd be behind.

So imagine her surprise when not a single other first year in her train compartment knew the contents of the third chapter in the _Standard Book of Spells_. The third chapter! What had they done all summer? And how could they just sit there, without the slightest interest in hearing her explanation of it?

Things went from there, and the end of the week found her tucked in her new bed, curtains drawn, with tears on her face and a wet pillow. Because maybe she didn't belong here either.

Because at this very moment, Hogwarts did not seem so magical. It did not seem like a grand new adventure. It felt strange and isolating and unwelcoming and scary. Crying silently in her bed, Hermione felt very much alone. How could she have spent a whole week with "people like her" and still not have made a single friend? Nothing made sense and she didn't have anyone to talk to and she wanted to go _home_.

And so the very next morning, Hermione tiptoed off to the library. And she wandered around until she came to a cozy little corner. One surrounded by ancient, dusty shelves that had protected readers since before she was born. One with a giant window that let her watch the sun rise; watch as it cast a new light on her new world. And as the day unfolded before her, she turned and found herself staring at _Charlotte's Web_.

Hermione remembered that moment in vivid detail, even after years and years had passed. And she remembered her cozy little corner in the library. Because even after she battled trolls and traveled through time – even after she became friends with two courageous boys – she would still return to that very spot. After a fight with Ron or a bad test or a particularly scary adventure, she would slip away to the library; to the corner that was _hers_. And though she had never seen anyone else there – never heard anyone else mention the spot – she would always find books waiting for her on the shelf. Sometimes they would be new adventures with a whole new set of characters to meet. And other times they would be her favorites. Worlds that felt like home. Characters that felt like friends.

Hermione returned because she loved the library and its shelves and books with all her heart. A place full of thoughts and ideas and daring comrades and stories that had helped her write her own. Where everything that was taken out found its way back to where it belonged. And even on days that she felt lonely – when she would look up, bursting with a new idea or opinion or even just a funny thought, and still have no one to share it with – she still felt like she belonged.

It was a feeling that had started on that very first day, as she stared at _Where the Wild Things Are_ and _Matilda_, and hadn't gone away since. A whole shelf of books picked just for her, it seemed. She hadn't read about this in _Hogwarts: A History_, but as the enchanted little corner shimmered in new-day sunlight, Hermione felt loved. And before she lost herself in _Bridge to Terabithia_, before she greeted Jesse and Leslie again, and before she ran after them and their imagination, she smiled. She looked around her new-found corner and whispered, "Thank you."

**Author's Note:** Hey, so the part about McGonagall was inspired by 'A Touch of Slytherin Ambition' by NotWhoYouThinkThisIs. It's great. You should read it.

I had so much fun writing this. I'll probably be posting more things because I'm trying to get experience. But then, I'm also a college student. On that note, please leave a review if you have time. Tell me what you liked or didn't like and what I can improve on. Thanks for reading!

-Droupy xx


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